


Of Time and Space

by SqueekaCuomo



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 21:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueekaCuomo/pseuds/SqueekaCuomo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of Hello and Goodbye: the Doctor hates endings just as much as he hates repeats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Time and Space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiHnn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiHnn/gifts).



  
**Of Time and Space**  
_(Of Hello and Goodbye)_  


“There’s a little girl waiting in a garden. She’s going to wait a long while, so she’s going to need a lot of hope. Go to her…” The words, Amy’s, no, _Amelia’s_ last words to him were seared in his brain, a constant, burning reminder of what he’d lost. Oh, he’s lost before, so many times before, but Amelia Pond was the first face he saw with this face. She was _his_ first face. And the knowledge that his first face was gone forever, lost to the past and the Weeping Angels, cut so deeply he felt as if the wound would never heal.

Not while he had this face anyway.

And perhaps not with his next either.

Only time would tell. And time was something he felt he had an abundance of now that the Ponds were gone.

Time, the timey wimey-ness of it, the wibbly wobbly-ness of it seemed heavier now, almost like it was suffocating him as the weight of her words sank in.

The story of Amelia Pond is told, had reached the last chapter, and as he recalled her words he knew there was nothing left of her but ash lying in a coffin somewhere.

There would be no more adventures.

There would be no more moments of crystalline clarity where the truth is laid naked in her bright eyes.

It was all gone, _she_ is all gone and it’s his fault.

Oh, the Doctor knew that she would have died eventually. But he’d have preferred that she live a long and happy life with Rory, her parents and Brian, nearby. He’d have popped in on them until the day they died, and he knew that Amy and Rory would never have truly left him. He imagined them hunched and worn with age, ready to hop in the TARDIS for one “last” adventure.

The thought caused his lips to twitch in a slight smile before the Doctor remembered that this glorious future would never come to pass. He would never get to hear Amy’s laugh again, or hear Rory’s disapproval at whatever scheme they’d come up with.

He would never get to see the Ponds, _his_ Ponds alive again.

Instead he is stuck with a last page, an epilogue.

And the Doctor hates endings just as much as he hates repeats.

His eyes took in the very last line of her goodbye for what feels like the millionth time, the pain still as intense as the first. Longing for some way to be close to Amy one last time, he pressed the page to his chest remembering all of the times she flung herself into his arms, all the times he pulled her out of harm’s way. But the page isn’t enough, how could it be? As the truth of that sank in, he let the note flutter to the ground, and watched as the wind took it. It seemed so free, so light, despite the heaviness of its message. He watched, wondering how Amy and Rory lived and how they died, and as he did, a wind swept the page away, spiriting it to another place.

As it floated away, swirling amidst a swell of leaves, Amy’s voice seemed to echo in his heart and soul. “Go to her...”

 

**_Tell her she’ll give hope to the greatest painter who ever lived…_ **

Yellow.

Bright, bursting, glorious _yellow_.

Stepping out of the TARDIS, the Doctor was surrounded by what, at first, seemed like a sea of gold. It only took him a minute to realize that he wasn’t on a sun in some far away galaxy in a different dimension, and that he was standing in Vincent’s garden, and it was filled with sunflowers.

Amy’s sunflowers.

There were cracked pots and buckets filled with the blooms, but he remembered there being more, remembered the garden exploding with the color of them. This garden was well on its way to being the painting worthy scene he remembered, but wasn’t there yet.

It was then that he realized why he was there, why the TARDIS brought him to _this_ particular moment.

When he’d finally left the stone bench in New York, when he’d finally made his way back inside of his beautiful TARDIS, he’d made a single request of it; “Take me to her.” He’d said nothing else, barely even touched the console, and instead, trusted in the blue box to take him where he needed to go, to show him what he’d needed to see. And this was the moment she’d decided on, this was an answer she’d decided he needed.

All those years ago, he’d waited in Vincent’s home, making sure the painter didn’t awaken early and spoil the surprise. It had been all Amy’s idea, fill his garden with sunflowers while he was asleep to see if she could inspire one of Van Gogh’s most famous works. The Doctor had offered to help her, but Amy had refused, saying that this was something she needed to do on her own. And he’d let her because, even though she didn’t know it, she’d just lost Rory, just lost half of herself and he needed to try and make amends for that. Because even though she couldn’t remember what had happened, he _did_ and the guilt was unbearable.

So he’d sat in the house, well… not sat. He’d poked around, laughing in amazement at what he saw, stunned that he was seeing paintings the world would come to revere. Occasionally he’d peeked out the window, watching as Amy came back from town, her arms filled with sunflowers, her face glowing as brightly as the petals. She’d made trip after trip, never once asking for help, never once asking him to fetch a vase or water. The whole time she’d worked he kept wondering one thing…

Where was she getting the flowers from?

Before he even realized what he was doing, the Doctor took off running, the soles of his shoes slammed against the dirt path that led away from Vincent’s house. He ran through the countryside, past the wheat fields and barely slowed down when his feet hit pavement.

The town wasn’t very large and before he knew it he skidded to a halt outside of the pub where they’d first met Vincent. He didn’t dare to look inside, didn’t dare to be seen, so he dropped below the window and listened.

He could hear her before he see her; her voice loud and boisterous, her Scottish accent as stubborn in France as it had been in her little English Village. “All right, fellas! A flower a kiss!”

She was answered by a raucous round of applause and laughter, no voice stood out louder than the rest. Not to him anyway. But Amy was another story. “That’s right, kind sir! For every sunflower your bring me I will give you a kiss!” The room erupted with hoots and hollers before Amy’s voice rang out again. “How am I supposed to know where to get them? That’s your job. Now go, before I change my mind.”

The exuberant sounds from a moment ago quickly turned into the scrapes of chairs across the floor and men shoving one another as they rushed to the door. The Doctor pushed himself off the ground and watched in amusement as the men ran down the street, some dashed into shops while others tried side streets, in search of flowers.

Holding his breath, the Doctor lifted himself up just enough so he could peek through the window. Amy sat on a table in the middle of the room, her red scarf draped lazily across her shoulders and a single, long stemmed sunflower in her hands. She twirled the massive bloom between her fingers, smiling as the bright yellow petals and black center began to blur. There was a mischievous grin on her face and the Doctor wondered if she was thinking about inspiring one of Vincent’s most famous paintings, or if perhaps she was thinking of Vincent himself, and their flirtations. The one thing he was certain of was that she wasn’t thinking of Rory.

But then again, she couldn’t be.

The thought made his hearts drop a bit. Just like it was his fault he’d lost Amy and Rory to the Angels, it was also his fault that Amy had lost Rory.

More than once.

Before his mind could go any further down that path, a path that surely led to madness, the men began to return. They filed in one by one, flowers in hand. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have thought it possible. After all, where had they found armfuls of sunflowers in the wee hours of the morning?

But really, he wasn’t surprised that men were lining up in front of her, some with single flowers and others with armfuls.

Because this was Amy Pond and he knew only too well what she was capable of inspiring in others.

The Doctor also wasn’t surprised when one of the men, one with only a tiny, wilted bloom tried to steal a handful of them from someone’s arms. He wanted to call out, or warn her, but he didn’t dare. Instead, he waited and simply smiled when Amy noticed the ruckus.

“Oi! You there!” She pointed at the thief with the flower in her hand. “There’ll be none of that.” He looked as if he wanted to protest. “One wrong move and you’re out. Got it?” She didn’t wait for him to respond, turning back to the rest of the crowd, who seemed to be worried about losing their chances too. “Alright, form a line!” Amy gestured with the sunflower, showing the men where to line up. “Now step right up…” She handed the flower in her hand off to a server who laid it on a table behind them, before she slid forward so her legs dangled over the edge.

The first man in line presented Amy with three bright blooms which appeared to be trembling. The Doctor laughed at that as he watched in amusement. Amy took them from his hand and passed them off to the serving girl before she grabbed the man’s lapels and pulled him forward. Before he could respond, before he could even say hello, Amy pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks and a final one to his slack, shocked, mouth. When she was done, the bar was silent.

“And that’s how it’s done, gentlemen!” Amy released the shocked man and smoothed his lapels before she sent him on his way. “Come here you…” This time the server took the flowers straight away so Amy was free to pull the next man in line forward.

Shaking his head, the Doctor pushed himself up from the ground. Amy wouldn’t notice him now, wouldn’t wonder why he wasn’t keeping an eye on Vincent, so he didn’t worry about taking a full, final last look through the window. “So, Amelia Pond. That’s a kissogram.”

As a few stragglers ran up to the bar, crumpled flowers in hand, the Doctor made his way back towards the TARDIS, saying goodbye to Vincent’s Amy as he did.

 

**_She’ll fall in love with a man who’ll wait two thousand years to keep her safe..._ **

This time the TARDIS chose to take the Doctor to a small play park. It was a cool day with wind strong enough to stir the swings, making them look as if they are being ridden by ghosts. But despite the chill in the air, the park was filled with children. Bundled up in coats and scarves they ran rampant through the park, their joyous screams echoing all around him.

The scene was wonderful, the innocence of childhood seeping into the very fiber of his being. But that wasn’t enough, there _had_ to be a reason the TARDIS had chosen _this_ particular moment to show him. Her stops were never arbitrary, she always took him _exactly_ where he needed to be. Why would this have been any different?

Desperate to find out what was so important about this particular park, on this particular day, the Doctor spun around himself, searching the children’s faces. What was he supposed to see here? Why was this moment any more important than the next?

Try as he might though, nothing stood out, nothing seemed important enough to warrant a stop at a child’s play park. Sighing deeply, the Doctor completed his spin, ending where he’d begun, his eyes drawn to the swings that were still moving with their ghostly companions. But now, there was a small boy holding onto to one of the rails and walking around it. He stared at the ground as he moved, carefully placing one foot in front of the other, walking in a small circle, as if his whole world revolved around the pole.

The Doctor didn’t know why, but he was drawn to this boy. He didn’t seem lonely, even though he was by himself; he just seemed to be wrapped up in his own world. It was strange, but the Doctor felt as if he should know this child…

He thought about approaching him, but before he could take a step, a small girl with bright red hair rushed past him. Her head was covered in knit stocking cap that was an even brighter orange than her hair and she had a stack of books pressed to her chest. She walked with her head down, ignoring all of the other children around her, in her own world, just like the boy. It was like she wanted to avoid the rest of the children, or that she had some place to go. Her reason for walking like that didn’t really matter, though. Because before she could take another step, before the Doctor could tell her to watch out, the little boy came round the pole and the two collided with a resounding thud.

The Doctor gasped, not from shock or worry, but from realization.

He knew who these two children were.

Why he’d been shown this moment.

And he couldn’t have been happier. “Little Ponds!”

The books in the girl’s hands scattered and the boy stopped orbiting the pole, his mouth open wide in shock. “I… I…” He looked like a fish gasping for air.

The girl, her face twisted into a look of exasperation and anger, dropped to the ground and scooped up a book with a centurion on the cover. As she stood back up she took in the little boy’s gawking. “Why are you making such a stupid face?” She bent down and picked up another book.

The boy’s jaw snapped shut with such force the Doctor swore he heard it. The Doctor pressed his lips together in a grin as he watched the boy. It was clear that even at such a young age, and at first sight, no less, that Rory Williams was in love with Amelia Pond. Where, only moments ago, his world revolved around the swing set pole, the Doctor could see Rory’s gravitational pull switch to Amy.

It had taken only seconds for his world to come to revolve around her.

“I…” Little Rory cleared his throat nervously and the Doctor wanted to give him a nudge, wanted to tell him that everything would work out in the end. “I…” Once again his sentence trailed off, but this time he closed his mouth properly.

“Look,” Amy bent to pick up the last of her books, this one about stars, “I’m sorry. About what I said about your face.” She looked down at the ground before she looked back up at Rory. “Your face isn’t stupid.”

Rory nodded, but didn’t say anything. It was as if he’d lost the power of speech. The Doctor could hardly blame him though, Amy, no matter the age, was a force to be reckoned with.

Amy resituated the books in the crook of her arm before she held out her right hand. “I’m new here. My name’s Amelia. Amelia Pond.” The name rolled off her tongue, the beauty of her Scottish brogue infused every syllable of it.

As if he’d been shocked into life, Rory stuck out his hand and shook hers, but he didn’t let go once the shake was finished. Instead he started at her, barely managing to stutter out, “You’re new here…”

“I’ve just said that.” Amy considered Rory as she pulled her hand back, the expression on her face clearly said maybe she hadn’t been wrong about his face after all.

Rory quickly dropped his hand, but the Doctor could see him rubbing his fingertips together, as if trying to remember the feel of her skin against his. “Yeah, sorry.” He opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. “I’m Rory Williams.” He looked at her, waited for her to make the next move.

“Well, Rory Williams,” she looked him up and down again. “I’ve got to get home; my aunt is making fish fingers tonight, she’ll be mad if I’m late. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” Amy turned to walk away before Rory had a chance to respond.

“Right, tomorrow then.” Rory spoke to Amy’s back and watched her walk away, longing in his eyes. When she turned to face him again, the Doctor felt his hearts beat a little faster at the look of expectation on Rory’s face.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to come over… It’s just fish fingers, but…” For the first time, it was Amy who couldn’t seem to speak.

Rory didn’t even take the time to consider before he said, “Yeah. That’s… yeah. Good.” He looked down at his feet and then up at her. The Doctor couldn’t help but laugh, this Rory, little Rory, was so like the nurse he’d first met. Amy’s eyebrows arched as she watched him. “Now?”

“Yes… now.” She spoke slowly and clearly, obviously wondering again if she’d made a mistake. Once again she turned to walk away, not bothering to see if her new friend was following. But it was obvious that Amy knew he’d follow her.

What Amy didn’t know was that Rory Williams, the little boy who’d knocked the books from her arms, would follow her for all his days.

This was the beginning, _their_ beginning, and the Doctor was ready to go, ready to say to goodbye to the two children who were rushing home to eat fish fingers. He only hoped that they would have custard for dessert.

 

_**By the time you read these words, Rory and I will be long gone…** _

When the TARDIS stopped outside a small bookshop, the Doctor knew instantly why she’d chosen this particular moment in time.

The tiny window was cluttered, filled with stacks of books that blocked most of the inside of the shop. But Brian Pond’s, no Brian _Williams’_ red haired profile was framed between the stacks. He looked thinner than the last time the Doctor had seen him and he had the haggard look of someone who’d suffered a loss of unexplainable proportions.

What felt like a lifetime ago, Brian had made the Doctor promise to keep Amy and Rory safe and to bring them home. And he’d promised, promised with all of his hearts. But what good had that done in the end? He hadn’t only failed Rory and Amy, but he’d failed Brian, whom he’d come to love, as well.

The Doctor wanted to go the man, to apologize, to ask for forgiveness, to ask for absolution…

But he couldn’t.

His son and daughter-in-law were dead because of him. Yes, they’d lived their lives, but it had been in another time, another place and Brian would never get a chance to say goodbye. And as he turned away from the window, the Doctor knew he’d never be able to face this grieving man again. He didn’t deserve a pardon for what he’d done. Brain, however, he deserved to know what happened to Rory and Amy.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets and dropping his gaze to the ground, the Doctor made his way into the book shop. It was tinier on the inside; the rows piled high with used books and the heavy scent of musty memories hanging in the air. The shop felt as if should have been lit by candles instead of the tiny lamps that were scattered about.

As he ducked down a row labeled as “Mysteries,” the Doctor quickly scanned the worn spines on the books, Amy’s round reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He found what he was looking for much more quickly than he’d expected, and as he reached up to pull it off the shelf, his hand began to tremble ever so slightly.

He didn’t look down at the worn book in his hand, but his thumb slid unconsciously over the pages, pressing into the dog eared corner of the cover. The Doctor quickly made his way to the counter, listening for Brian’s voice as he did. As best he could tell, Brian was still somewhere towards the back.

“May I help you?” The girl behind the counter looked impossibly young, her blond hair in a sleek braid that fell over her shoulder. Her smile was kind and her eyes clear blue.

“Yes, did you see that man who popped in? Red-ish hair…” He knew it was a long shot, but it couldn’t hurt.

“You mean Brian?” Her smile faltered a bit.

“Yes, Brian. That’s the one.” As her smile fell, he tried harder to keep his own.

“He’s a regular here, see him all the time. But he always seems so sad…” She looked towards the back of the shop, as if looking for him. “We’ve sort of become friends,” she half-smiled. “It’s a small shop, so I always try and be extra nice to the regulars, he’s my favorite. I think he’s lost someone, but he won’t tell me anything.” She blushed guiltily, like she thought she’d said to much. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but it seems like you know him…”

“It’s alright, I do know him.” A jolt of guilt shot through the Doctor’s chest at her words. “He’s lost two someone’s, actually. Two very important someone’s.” He reached up and adjusted Amy’s glasses as he fought against the pain gripping his two hearts. “But this will help…” He placed the tattered book on the countertop and slid it towards her.

“Melody Mallone?” She picked the book up, scanning the cover quizzically. “What’s so impo-”

“It will help him feel better.” Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but it would eventually. “Just… tell him to read the last chapter first, alright?”

“It’ll really help him?” The young woman looked at him with hope and sadness in her bright eyes.

The Doctor nodded, unable to speak at first. “Yes, it really will.”

“Ok. I’ll make sure he gets it.” The Doctor tried to pay her, but she refused. “If it helps him, it’ll be worth it. It’s on clearance, anyway.”

“Thank you.” Those two words had never felt more inadequate. He wanted to say more, but the sound of Brian’s voice growing louder and louder ran him out of the shop.

The Doctor would never be able to apologize for what he’d cost Brian Williams. He would never be able to properly say goodbye, but this way, at least, he would know what happened to his son and his family.

 

**_So know that we lived well, and we’re very happy…_ **

Amy’s house.

Again.

As the Doctor stepped over the overgrown weeds in the Pond’s garden, he wondered how many times the TARDIS had brought him here, had dropped him in this exact spot. The other times he’d arrived he’d inspected the new shed, been surprised by the difference in the size of plants. But never before had he realized just how wonderful this overgrown, shabby garden was. It was only now; when he knew he’d probably never see it again that he noticed its beauty. And now it was too late for him to be able to truly appreciate it.

He wanted to take a moment to try and absorb every last detail, but the sound of an opening door pulled him from his thoughts. He didn’t know when he was, what Amy or Rory he’d find, so the Doctor quickly dove into the nearest bush. The branches poked his ribs and a thorn scraped his cheek, but the Doctor kept as still and quiet as he could.

“Rory… wait!” Amy’s voice was a mixture of shock and wonderment that the Doctor had never heard before. Being as careful as he possibly could, he created a small opening in the lush leaves. They both looked younger, Amy’s hair was pinned up and Rory’s cheeks weren’t quite as full. “Rory!”

Rory stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. If the sound in Amy’s voice surprised the Doctor, it was nothing compared to the look of fear on Rory’s. “What?” There was a false bravery in his voice that the Doctor saw right through. “I just… I was…”

“I always thought you…” Amy reached out a tentative hand and clasped the elbow of Rory’s shirt. “You know,” she shrugged. “I thought you liked blokes.”

Rory swallowed, the lump in his throat large enough for the Doctor to see from his hiding place. “No, I don’t like _blokes_.” He half rolled his eyes as he looked at Amy. “I’ve only ever -”

Before he could finish his sentence, Amy pulled Rory close and pressed her lips to his in what was clearly their first kiss. It was short and awkward, but somehow so incredibly intimate that the Doctor let the leaves fall closed in front of him. He couldn’t intrude on this moment.

Slipping out from behind the bush, he made sure that Amy and Rory’s attention was on each other before he snuck back to his TARDIS. But before he stepped back into the blue box, he looked back at the house one last time. What he saw there surprised him.

Standing in the window of Amy’s bedroom was Melody, who would soon become River and who would soon try to kill him. As he watched her, the Doctor found it hard to believe that she would come to be his wife and a constant thorn in his side.

Looking away before she noticed him, the Doctor said goodbye to Mels and her parents, but not to River.

 

_**And above all else, know that we will love you, always…** _

It was a box he’d hoped to never see again, but here he was, standing in front of what was meant to be his own prison.

The Pandorica.

He didn’t know when he was or where he was, but the Doctor was positive that if the TARDIS had seen fit to bring him here, then Amy must be locked inside of it. And that meant….

Rory was nearby by, guarding the love of his very long life.

The Doctor knew that he couldn’t approach him, or let him know that he was there. But he needed to, at the very least, hear his voice. Because even though he knew that Rory made it through his 2,000 year wait, the Doctor still needed to make sure that he was doing ok.

Listening for any tiny sound, the Doctor began to creep along the edge of the Pandorica, his hands trailing over the cool stone as the edge of his ear brushed it occasionally. One foot in from of the other, he walked towards the corner, hoping that Rory didn’t manage to spot him first.

Of the four sides of the box, the Doctor only had to investigate one before finding Rory.

Reaching the corner, and just about to turn, he heard Rory’s voice coming from right around the bend. He sounded… not angry, or upset, but resentful. At first, the Doctor didn’t bother to focus on what he was actually saying, happy to just hear Rory’s voice again, but then he heard his former companion say, “I always feel like such a prat talking to an empty room, but I’m so lonely, Doctor. I’ve tried talking to Amy, but it always ends up feeling wrong since she’s here with me. And you are the only other person who understands this whole mess. So… here we go.”

Crouching down, the Doctor leaned as close to the corner of the box as he could. Rory was right on the other side of it; one small move and they’d be face to face in an impossible situation. But he couldn’t bring himself to move away, not if it meant missing out on a single word of whatever was bothering Rory. After all, the TARDIS had brought him here; apparently he needed to hear this, no matter how painful it might be.

Leaning towards the edge of the box just a tiny bit more, the Doctor listened…

“A thousand years. It’s been one thousand years since I last saw you, Doctor.” Rory laughed humorlessly. “A thousand years without sleep, without proper clothing,” the Doctor heard a rustle of Rory’s armor. “Without _Amy_.” There was pain in his voice when he said her name and the Doctor could barely stand it.

“You told me the wait would drive me mad, but it hasn’t, not yet anyway.” He shifted again, placing his hand close enough to the edge of the Pandorica that the Doctor could see it. “All this time, you want to know what has kept me from losing my mind, Doctor?” Rory clenched his fist tightly, as if holding onto something. “Amy.”

“Whenever I feel myself slipping, whenever things start to feel _off_ , I think of her.” Rory’s hand relaxed again, his palm pressing into the dusty ground. “Her hair. Her laugh. Her smile. Her love for you.” The Doctor’s mouth fell open as Rory’s voice invaded his senses.

“Everything always came back to _you_ , Doctor. She’s my girlfriend, my fiancé, but still, it’s all about _you_.” While his voice dropped in volume, the anger in it rose. “I don’t know how you do it, how you manage to do…. Whatever it is you do to her.”

“If you’d just never crashed into her garden… we could have been happy. _Amy_ could have been happy. But because of you she’s spent her life obsessing over you, over her Raggedy Doctor.” Rory laughed and the Doctor wished he could hear some humor in it. “You infected every single bit of her life, you know that? You were her imaginary friend. She wrote stories about the two of you, painted pictures. She even made me pretend to be you when we were little. But it was never enough, _I_ was never enough.”

The Doctor felt his hearts clench and he whispered, “Oh, Rory…”

“Why couldn’t you have just stayed away, Doctor? We could have been happy.” The Doctor watched in horror as Rory’s hand went limp on the dusty ground. “Maybe our lives wouldn’t have been about adventure, but we could have made it…” Rory’s voice trailed off and the Doctor could tell that Rory was trying to convince himself, more than anyone else. It broke the Doctor’s heart to hear his companion talk like this, but there was nothing he could do.

“There have been days when I have _hated_ you, Doctor. Days where I could barely stand to be around Amy because I knew it was _you_ who made her smile. But, somewhere along the way, I don’t know, that disappeared.” Rory threw his hand up, like he’d given in to something. “Maybe I couldn’t give her adventure, but I can give her something you can’t.”

The Doctor waited, his mouth going dry as the seconds ticked by. “I can give her _me_. I can give her _two thousand_ years.” The weight of Rory’s words felt like a slap. “If you loved her even a tiny bit as much as I do, you’d never have left her waiting. Not for a single second.” The Doctor recoiled, his breaths coming in short, sharp stabs.

“But do you want to know what the really crazy thing is, Doctor?” Truth be told, he wasn’t sure if he did. “Despite everything you’ve put Amy, put _us_ through, I love you. Not as much as Amy, but I do. I think, in some strange way, you’ve brought her closer to me. And trust me, there have been times, with you, when I’ve doubted…” Rory’s voice sounded sad and the Doctor could hardly blame him. He’d never known that Rory felt this way. “But she’s _mine_ and if we get through this, we’re going to get married. And I have you to thank for that… somehow.” Rory chuckled.

“Listen to me; maybe I have gone a bit mad, talking to you, or myself. Or both.” Rory sighed and it sounded like the weight of a thousand years was escaping on that breath. The Doctor could barely begin to understand just how Rory Williams felt; his long life hadn’t prepared him for this moment. “I’m so tired, Doctor.”

“I know you are, Rory.” The Doctor whispered, as he fought the urge to step around the corner and comfort him.

“I think this is it, our last conversation. Well, my last conversation to you, it’s not like you can actually hear any of this, after all. And to be totally honest, I am so _very_ tired of the sound of my own voice. I guess that’s what happens when you have no one else to talk to for a thousand years.” Rory laughed dryly, but the Doctor couldn’t find it funny. “Good bye, Doctor. We’ll talk again in a thousand years.”

The Doctor could hear Rory pushing himself off the ground on the other side of the Pandorica. “Good bye, Rory Williams.” When he was sure he was gone, the Doctor made his way back to the TARDIS.

 

_**Don’t be alone, Doctor…** _

When the TARDIS touched down this time, the Doctor pulled the door open and pushed himself out of the phone box and into a sea of people. He didn’t bother to look around him, the when and where didn’t matter so much as the who and why. So far, every moment had been important, so very important. This had to be the same.

Didn’t it?

Pushing and shoving his way through the mass of people, the Doctor searched and searched for a flash of flaming red hair, or a large nose. But what he saw stopped him in his tracks even as the people around him continued to flow like a sea.

Her back was to him, her hair a halo of curls that looked both wild and tamed at the same time.

River Song was standing as still as he was, both of them resisting the tide.

His instinct was to run to her, to spin her around and find something of Amy and Rory, something of her parents in her eyes. But her voice, so very calm, so very solemn, kept him in his place. “It’s too soon for this, Doctor. We will talk about them, but not now.” Without another word, she took a step forward and was quickly swallowed up by the moving tide of what seemed like a market place.

Not ready to say goodbye to River, but understanding, he turned back to the TARDIS, silently asking himself if they’d ever truly be ready for that discussion.

 

_**You and me, on the last page…** _

This was the end of his journey, he could tell it.

It wasn’t that the TARDIS would refuse to take him further, or that there weren’t other moments that he could visit with his beloved Ponds. It was that he could _feel_ their time ending so deeply in his bones that he practically ached.

He’d finally reached the end of the line.

The last page.

And as he, somehow, always knew it would be, those last few precious moments were to be spent with Amy Pond.

No... Not Amy.

 _Amelia_ Pond.

His fairy tale girl. His first face. His girl who waited.

Just like he had so long ago, the Doctor found himself in the middle of Amy’s garden, surrounded by weeds and a lonely shed. It was heartbreakingly perfect and there was no place he’d rather be.

Gripping the side of the TARDIS, the Doctor tried to prepare himself for what he knew he must do. Amy had asked one last favor of him. If this was all he could do for her anymore, then he would do it, no matter what. This whole trip through Amy and Rory’s past had been about saying goodbye to his companions, his friends, but it had never felt more real than now. There’d always been one more stop, but not this time.

After taking a final deep breath, the Doctor let go of the TARDIS and made his way towards the back door. It was simple enough to get into the house, a quick blast from the sonic took care of the lock and from there it was just a matter of sneaking up the stairs and into Amelia’s bedroom.

She was asleep in her bed, a small child surrounded by a halo of twinkling lights draped over the headboard. From the amount of drawings and handmade dolls of them lying on her dresser, it was obvious that he hadn’t seen her for a while. He stopped at the dresser, running his fingers over the red yarn hair of one puppet and the raggedy suit of another. That day, the day they’d first met, had never felt so long ago.

It felt like more than a single lifetime since fish fingers and custard.

And now, as he was about to say goodbye to it all, it felt like only seconds.

He hadn’t had long enough with her.

But then again, no matter how much time he spent traveling through time and space with Amelia Pond, he knew it would never, _ever_ be enough.

“Oh, Amelia…” The Doctor sat next to her bed, as he had before, pushing a crimson strand behind her ear. “I was asked to come to you, to tell you a story, to give you hope.” He let his hand rest on her round cheek as she slept. “But what I really want to tell you is to stay away from me, to never set foot in the TARDIS. That box will bring you so many adventures, but you’ll also be lost because of it. I will lose you because of it.” The Doctor pulled his hand away, barely believing the words coming out of his own mouth.

“I want you to live a long and happy life, here, in this little village. I want you to grow up, marry Rory, have lots of little Ponds and be happy.” He smiled in the darkness at the thought of a flock of miniature ginger Ponds. “But you and I both know that that would never be enough for you. Oh, Rory will make you _so_ happy, so… _complete_ , but that won’t be enough.”

The Doctor sat back in the chair, wishing desperately that things could be different. “You will always crave adventure, whether it’s here, on earth, or traveling through time with me. It’s in your blood.” He shook his head, knowing just how true that was, of both of them.

“The day will come when you’ll leave with me for the first time and everything will change for you. You don’t know it yet, but there will be kisses for sunflowers, space pirates and living statues. You will face your greatest fears and come away stronger for it. And it will be _brilliant_.”

Leaning forward, the Doctor placed his hand on little Amelia’s cheek once again. “The time will come when you’ll need to make a choice, stay here and live or come with me and change the world. I wish you’d stay here, but we both know that you won’t.” He gritted his teeth together, hating himself more and more for losing this little girl, hating the fact that he now had to say goodbye to her, one last time. “So, have hope Amelia, I will come for you, one day. But for me, this is the story of Amelia Pond. And this is how it ends.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- This was originally written for mihnn for “eleventy fest.” I hope that you like it. :)  
> \- All of the section titles, and quotes, were taken from “Amelia’s Last Farewell” in “The Angels Take Manhattan.”  
> \- Erin, thank you so much for the beta and words of encouragement. :)  
> \- Reviews are love.


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